


let's get cracking

by MissjuliaMiriam



Series: Penumbra Smut [6]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: (literally lmao), Crack, Established Relationship, Humor, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other, PWP, Smut, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam/pseuds/MissjuliaMiriam
Summary: “I thought I hadfucked you to death, Juno. Or at least to serious injury!”“But what a way to go,” Juno says, and winks.





	let's get cracking

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my good friend Kris, aka The Bone God, for Reasons.
> 
> Also? The closest thing to crack I've ever written, and that is _definitely_ a pun. Enjoy.

Juno stumbles across the room at Peter's shove, laughing, and then trips over his own feet and lands on his ass—fortunately the bed is there right behind him and he tumbles onto it. Peter is on him in the next second, kissing him fiercely, and when he pulls away to suck yet another mark onto Juno's throat Juno laughs again and says, “In a mood, aren't you?”

“In _the_ mood,” Peter says. “Now be quiet and roll over.”

Heat flashes through Juno's entire body and he squirms, arching up under Peter, but Peter is already pulling away. A disappointed whine escapes Juno's throat, and Peter pauses in unbuttoning his shirt to give Juno a look, one eyebrow raised into an imperious arc.

_Right_. Peter clearly is not fucking around today, besides in the obvious way, and Juno hurriedly flips over, crawling a bit further up onto the bed for good measure. He draws himself up onto his hands and knees, careful not to kneel on the hem of his skirt, and arches his back. Behind him, Peter makes a harsh noise, like an aborted growl, and then there's the sound of fabric hitting the bedroom floor, a shirt carelessly tossed, followed by the sound of a zipper as Peter opens his pants. Juno's own shirt is long gone, lost somewhere in the living room he thinks, and so he's left only in skirt and the lacy underwear that had triggered this little bout of fervour in Peter in the first place. They'd been making out on the couch like shameless teenagers and Peter had slid a hand up under Juno's skirt, and when his fingers had touched the lace he'd _lost it_. Which is really _very_ satisfying.

Another moment and then Peter is close again, kneeling behind him and stroking his hands across Juno's back and over his ass, then down the outsides of his thighs to the bottom of his skirt. In the next second, those long, clever fingers are once more sliding up under the hem, dragging through the hair on Juno's thighs and making him shiver and arch further, trying to invite the touch where he's _aching_ for it. Fortunately for Juno, Peter doesn't seem inclined to wait around, and one hand settles on Juno's ass, fingers delving past the panties and into his crack to tease his hole. The other palm rubs up against his cock, still trapped in lace, and Juno collapses to his elbows, moaning.

“Good,” Peter says, his voice rough. “Lube, darling. Now. Please.”

“Almost forgot your manners,” Juno says, and his chuckle is aborted by another moan when Peter squeezes his cock, almost hard enough to hurt.

“And you've forgotten yours.” Now Peter's tone has gone dangerous, and Juno shivers again in response, whispers an apology into the sheets. Peter strokes his ass in reply: apology accepted. But, Juno remembers, Peter had made a request and Juno has yet to fulfill it, so he shifts his weight to one arm so that he can use the other to dig around under their pillows to find the bottle of lube. Even as he does so, Peter is distracting him, rubbing his cock and toying with his hole, trailing fingers around and around to get him tingling and relaxed. He has the feeling that Peter's not going to spend much, if any, time on prep—which is fine, Juno already feels incredibly ready, desperate to be filled.

Finally his fumbling fingers find the lube, and Juno pulls it out with a triumphant noise. Behind him, Peter laughs, and takes it with the hand that had been on Juno's cock when it's offered. He shoves the fabric of Juno's skirt forward so that it falls partially across Juno's back, baring his ass and his thighs and those damned lace panties. The latter Peter finally pulls down, but he leaves them tangled around Juno's thighs, so that Juno's forced to stay still or risk tearing them, no matter how much he wants to spread his legs further. There's a click from the cap of the lube bottle, and Peter gasps; Juno turns to see him stroking a generous amount of lube over his own cock, an intent and ardent look on his face as he stares down at Juno.

Juno can only imagine the picture he makes himself: topless and ruffled, his skirt flipped up and panties around his thighs. He must look like the most debauched sort of lady, the kind who makes his living posing for pinups instead of chasing criminals — and isn't that a thought. Maybe he should put together some souvenirs for when Peter next has to leave the planet. But that's gotta be for another time, because right now Peter is looking at him like he wants to fuck him through the mattress and possibly also the floor, and Juno is _all about_ that.

Peter finishes slicking his own cock and pours another drizzle of lube over his fingers. He reaches forward and presses two against Juno's hole, rubbing until the tight ring relaxes and he can push both fingers in together, unceremonious. Juno has to stop craning his neck to look so that he can drop it between his arms and pant. It doesn't hurt, not with the excess of lube and his own relaxation and comfort, the trust he has in Peter's hands. He just feels overwhelmed, taken, and he can't wait for Peter's cock.

Peter is swiftly satisfied with Juno's comfort and withdraws his fingers, shuffling forward on his knees. Juno arches his back even further, dipping down so that his forehead is pressed to his arms, his chest nearly flat against the bed and his hips tilted upward, ready. Peter takes the invitation, pressing up against him, and then he guides his cock forward with a careful hand and begins to press inside. He takes his time, careful of Juno's welfare even when so worked-up, and Juno relishes the gentle ache and intensity as he seats himself fully, hilt-deep and rocking his hips against Juno's in tiny movements that he can't suppress, for all that he seems to be waiting for some sign that Juno is ready.

That, Juno is happy to give. He moans at the feeling of overwhelming fullness and says, “Peter, please.”

All too happy to oblige, Peter grabs Juno's hips and withdraws, then thrusts forward forcefully. Juno jerks, cries out, and tries to push back, hungry for that closeness. Peter fucks him hard and fast; Juno feels like he's being shoved down with every thrust and _loves_ it, shakes and groans and reacts, taking as much as he's being taken. He feels possessed and loved and _used_ , and the feeling only intensifies when Peter shifts forward, his thrusts becoming shorter, staying deep instead of withdrawing every time. Peter leans forward over Juno's back, pressing their bodies together, and to keep his balance moves one hand from Juno's hip the middle of his back, holding him down.

It's so incredibly good, and then Peter's next thrust shifts even a little more of his weight forward, which feels even better—but Juno's spine doesn't quite agree. There's a loud _crack-pop_ from his vertebrae as they shift under Peter's hand, and Juno makes a choked noise at the release of tension from his back; he arches even further, to an angle that maybe should be uncomfortable, but he still feels so wonderfully smothered under Peter's weight, filled and surrounded by him.

Juno shudders, waiting for the next shift of Peter's hips that will drive him even higher... but it doesn't come. Instead, Peter shouts, “Juno!” His tone is much more alarmed than pleasured, and he lifts his weight off of Juno's back.

“Don't _stop_ ,” Juno complains, knowing that he's whining, but he doesn't care—and damn it, now Peter is pulling out.

“Are you okay?” Peter demands, clearly not listening, and his hands slide under Juno's chest and belly as if to support him. “Juno, be careful, let me check...”

In response to his gentle prodding Juno shifts up off his elbows and unbends his back, turning to look at Peter. Peter looks almost frantically worried, one hand on Juno's ribs and the other going to his back, running down his spine as if to check for something.

“What the fuck, Peter?” Juno says. “I'm fine!”

“But that _noise_ ,” Peter says, and he runs his fingers down Juno's spine again. Normally that sort of touch would elicit a shudder, arousal, but the mood has shifted so quickly that it just makes Juno twitch a little, feeling ticklish and bothered.

“Have you seriously never heard it make that sound before?”

“ _No!_ ” Peter cries. “Juno, that was very distressing!”

“Clearly!” And then then hilarity of the situation strikes Juno, and he starts to laugh. “God, Peter. I'm completely fine, my joints are just fucked. Including my back.”

“You should really see a doctor,” Peter says, wide-eyed. “That _cannot_ be normal.”

“It's definitely normal,” Juno manages to choke out through his laughter. “Can you please, _hah_ , can you—nope—“

He can't get another word out, laughing so hard that tears come to his eyes, and Peter just stares at him for another few seconds before he starts to laugh too, at first just chuckling, then full-out, and the two of them end up leaning on one another, gasping for breath. Every time it feels like they've got it under control, one of them is struck with another fit of giggles, and the other loses it too, and they spend a good ten minutes curled up together on their shared bed, laughing until there are tears on both their faces and their ribs are aching.

Finally, _finally_ , they manage to get it under control, and Juno wipes his face. “So,” he says, “maybe next time you decide you want to nail me to the bed, we should do it in a position where you're _not_ going to panic and think you've snapped me in half if my back protests.”

“That seems wise,” Peter says, shaking his head. “I'm sorry, Juno. I believe I killed the mood.”

“It's pretty dead,” Juno agrees. “It's fine.” He leans over, kisses Peter's smiling lips. “At least it was, y'know, out of concern.”

“It _was_ that,” Peter says. “I honestly thought I'd broken something. I almost had a heart attack.”

“I know!” Juno says. “I've never seen you look so worried, and I've been _shot in front of you_.”

“That was different!” Peter protests. “I thought I had _fucked you to death_ , Juno. Or at least to serious injury!”

“But what a way to go,” Juno says, and winks. Then he leans forward and kisses Peter again, deep and hungry, feeling desire wake again. When he pulls away, panting, both of their lips are wet and he can feel himself starting to get hard again. “Wanna give it another shot?”

“Oh, anything for you,” Peter says, equally breathless, and bears Juno down to the bed once more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> working title was "Juno Steel's crunchy spine" and this was a long time in coming
> 
> i'll write Juno making a porno of himself for Peter another time, probably


End file.
